Chapter 17 - As Near as Strangers

Gideon’s arm remained firm around Neia’s shoulder as they made their way deeper into the heart of the festival. Lanterns swayed from above, casting a warm glow over the shifting crowd, while a lively performance at the stage drew people in droves. Neia stayed close, eyes wide with wonder and nerves alike, the chatter and cheer around them only growing louder. Gideon leaned in slightly to murmur above the noise, “There. Just past the stage, near the food stalls. I see them.”

She followed his gaze, spotting Devon’s unmistakable silhouette beside a taller figure with a commanding posture. But before they could reach them, the swell of the crowd surged once more. Gideon instinctively shifted, trying to carve a space for her, shielding her as best he could. In the crush, his arm slipped from her shoulder. A flash of something close to panic crossed his face and, without thinking, his hand found her again, this time at the small of her back, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist.

He stammered an apology at once, voice nearly lost in the noise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright,” Neia said, her voice smaller than usual but sincere. Her cheeks burned, though she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned just slightly toward him, letting the firmness of his chest be her shelter. “Really. Thank you.”

They pressed onward, step by careful step, until they broke through the edge of the crowd with something like relief, nearly stumbling from the sudden space around them. Gideon turned to her at once, brows drawn with worry. “Are you alright? I am so sorry.”

Neia, still breathless and pink, offered him a quick smile. “You don’t need to apologise so much. I’m fine, really. And thank you for making sure I didn’t get swept away.”

“I just didn’t expect it to be that dense,” he said, trying to recompose himself. “Next time, I’ll make us take the long way around.”

Neia laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Next time?”

Before he could answer, a familiar voice called out from nearby.

“Thornie?”

Gideon straightened at once. His head turned sharply to find a man approaching, tall and broad-shouldered, with a neatly-kept beard streaked with silver and a gaze that still carried the weight of command. There was warmth in his expression, the sort that lingered from old bonds and years gone by.

“Marius?” Gideon blinked, visibly caught off guard. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It has been far too long, considering we live in the same city,” Marius replied, reaching to clasp Gideon’s shoulder. “You’re looking well, boy. Healthy, hale, and taller than I remembered. You’ve grown into a fine young man.” He nodded approvingly. “And this must be your wife?”

At once, Gideon froze. “She’s not— I mean, no. No, she’s—” He fumbled over his words like a man who had rehearsed none of this. “Neia is a friend. Just a friend. She’s new to Korth. We’re just... meeting Devon and Caelan at the stalls.”

Marius raised a brow, visibly amused, and chuckled deep in his chest. “Ahh, my mistake, my mistake. Still, no wonder I thought so. You’ve got that air about you, Thornie. All grown up, walking around with a beautiful lady on your arm. Reminds me of your father in his youth. Gods, time flies.”

Neia, cheeks flushed but composed, stepped in with a polite smile. “You don’t need to apologise. If I look like someone worthy of being with a highly regarded member of the Guild, I must be doing something right.”

Marius turned to her with an expression of fond delight. “You have good manners and good sense. And far too much grace to be spending your evening with this stiff-necked fellow.” He gave Gideon a teasing nudge, then looked between the two of them. “It’s nice to see you smiling like this, Thornie. You always were too serious.”

Gideon, still faintly red in the face, tried his best to smile and keep his posture composed, though one could see the panic dancing quietly behind his eyes.

With a soft breath to steady herself, Neia lifted her chin and offered a gentle smile, her voice clear and sweet as she stepped forward a little bit. “It’s lovely to meet you, sir. I’m Neia Moonblade. Thank you for your kind words.”

Marius gave a courteous bow of his head, his smile deepening with approval. “A pleasure indeed, Miss Moonblade. Marius Vayne, at your service. Though I’ve long since retired, I once served as a commander within the Defenders Guild. And this one,” he gestured fondly to Gideon, who was still quietly recovering beside them “was one of my finest pupils. I had the honour of mentoring him when he first joined the Guild.”

Gideon shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck in quiet embarrassment, but Marius carried on with pride.

“I’ve known him since he was a lad, really. I used to visit the Thorne household when Caelan was rising through the ranks. Even back then, little Thornie here would follow us about with a wooden sword, trying to mimic his brother’s every step. Always so earnest, even then.” He glanced at Neia with a knowing twinkle in his eye. “It’s a rare thing, to watch a boy grow into the kind of man his parents can be proud of. He’s done just that.”

Neia cast a side glance toward Gideon, who met her eyes for the briefest moment before quickly looking away again, his ears tinged with red. Her heart swelled with something warm and soft. Something gentle, yet steady, as if she were glimpsing a piece of him that few others had ever seen.

She turned back to Marius with a thoughtful smile. “He’s been very kind to me. I can see why you speak so fondly of him.”

Marius chuckled, clearly pleased. “He’s got a good head and a good heart. Just needs a little push now and then.”

Marius lingered, his gaze sweeping over the bustling square with a quiet gravity. Lanterns swayed like softened stars above the crowd, and the scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with the sharp bite of summer wine. Laughter echoed from every corner, the kind that only comes when the world feels safe. But his eyes, those watchful, well-worn eyes, did not quite join in the mirth.

“It’s peaceful now, isn’t it?” he said, almost under his breath, as though the words were more observation than sentiment. “Korth used to carry a different weight to it. You could feel it in your bones, back then. The tension in the streets. The drills echoing from every courtyard. The old stone used to hum with the rhythm of boots on parade.” He paused, the ghost of a memory crossing his features. “These days, it’s ribbons and wine, songs in the square.”

He did not speak with disdain, only a kind of disbelief, as if he still found it difficult to reconcile the Korth of his youth with the one before him now.

“I suppose it’s a good thing,” he went on, his voice low and almost kind. “We’re meant to fight for peace, after all. And yet... sometimes I wonder if in gaining it, we’ve traded away something essential. The sharp edge. The readiness. You see it even in the Guild. The newer recruits are quicker with their pens than their swords. A little too quick to flinch from hardship, too eager to rest on titles and reputations.”

He glanced at Gideon then, the warmth returning to his tone. “But not you. Or your brother. You two were raised right. Steel in the spine, both of you. I made sure of that, in my own way. Let’s just hope neither of you go soft on me now, eh?” He chuckled, the sound tinged with affection and something else… Something like an older pride that hadn’t quite faded with time.

To Neia, it sounded like a man who had spent his life preparing others for storms that no longer came. A man who wasn’t bitter, but perhaps... restless. And before she could dwell too long on the thought, he gave them both a genial nod, and with the ease of someone who had once commanded entire battalions, Marius slipped back into the crowd, swallowed by lanternlight and the music of peace.

As Marius disappeared into the crowd, his deep voice and heavy stride fading into the sounds of festival cheer, a hush settled between them. For a moment, it was just the two of them again, standing amidst the buzz and flicker of lanterns, caught in the sudden stillness that followed his departure.

Then it struck them both at once.

Gideon’s arm was still snug around Neia’s waist.

Her eyes widened, and so did his. In perfect synchrony, they startled. Gideon all but jolted, yanking his arm back as though burned and holding both hands aloft in a helpless gesture of alarm, as if to prove his innocence to the nearest court of honour. Neia, meanwhile, clutched at the strap of her little handbag as though it might anchor her to the earth, her cheeks blooming a vivid pink, her eyes darting anywhere but at him.

“I— sorry, I didn’t mean to. I thought—” Gideon began.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just—”

But neither of them could finish their sentences, too tangled in their mutual fluster to do more than stumble over apologies and half-laughed reassurances.

And then they looked up.

Just ahead, standing beneath the swaying string lights, were Devon and Caelan. Devon held a cup of something bright and fizzy, lifted to his lips with exaggerated innocence. Caelan, arms crossed, and posture relaxed, wore a knowing tilt to his head. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

Devon’s smirk said it all.

Caelan’s was worse. His said, very clearly, finally.

Neia and Gideon stood there, side by side, not quite touching now, trying very hard to look as though nothing at all had just happened.

And failing completely.